He knew he had to address an uncertainty despite the language barrier. Otherwise, their new small business venture was bound to fail.
December 31, 1979
No other place through all of Houston could have promised her a chance to see the secret crush and love of her heart one last time. She discreetly pulled her hand up to her mouth, as if she were scratching her nose, and blew. Perfect. The mint did last after all. Just in case Jimmy Maxwell arrived within the next few minutes, her breath was fresh enough to talk to him upon the rare chance.
Standing nervously in the corner, diagonal from the gymnasium entrance, she could no longer see whether the school’s most popular basketball player, her heart’s most sought desire, had arrived yet. The dance floor, blocking her view, included all the school’s best dancers – except her and Jimmy.
“Tip!” She heard a familiar voice yell her nickname. “What are you doing over here by yourself, Girl?”
She turned to find the hippest blond girl she had ever met – and even had ever seen. A giggle always escaped through her lips to see her dance better than most of their Black girlfriends. She was one of the best at everything she did – including being a best friend. Gladys Lightfoot approached her from the crowd of couples.
“Just taking one last good look,” Tiphany Taylor responded, masking her sadness. She took a deep breath and forced a smile across her silky dark caramel face that never needed make-up in order to radiate her beauty.
Gladys was too perceptive to be fooled. “Girl, you’re only moving about thirty minutes away.”
“And I’ll be at another school,” Tiphany reminded her. “I wanted to graduate with y’all next year.”
“But it’s not like you’ll be out of town,” Gladys pointed out as she grabbed a cup of the punch from the nearby table. “I don’t think…”
“Gladys, I saw about three guys stop by three different times and add their own spike to that stuff,” Tiphany warned her friend. “I wouldn’t drink it.”
Skeptical, Gladys glared at the full punch bowl.
“It’s spiked. I wouldn’t drink it,” Tiphany warned a group of others passing by for refreshments. “Unless you want a mega New Year’s Eve buzz, you can grab a soda from the cooler over there.”
“Girl, hang up a sign and get…out…on…the…dance floor!” Gladys laughed.
“I don’t have a dance partner,” Tiphany explained with a deliberate carefree shrug.
“Oh, well, maybe you’ll be able to find Jimmy around here.”
“Have you seen him?” Tiphany asked discreetly. Not even her own group of closest friends knew how she longed for Jimmy’s attention – and how only in her dreams, he was the love of her life.
On the dance floor, he had been her faithful partner since her freshman year, which was his sophomore year. Every school dance and almost every mutual friend’s house party gave them opportunities to show out on the dance floors – together. Jimmy had even taught her some of her best moves. But it was always on the dance floors.
He rarely spoke to her in the hallways at school. At parties and dances, he was always swallowed up by crowds of friends and girls once he finished dancing with her. Tiphany actually hung onto every smile he had thrown to her in passing.
He seemed to always have one girlfriend for every semester since Tiphany, as a new freshman, had met him at a victory dance. Those girls were so pretty, she thought. How could she compare? He seemed to like the girls with long hair. Hers rose just above her shoulders. And she spent overtime to prepare it daily. While her efforts often paid off with an abundance of compliments about her styles, she often wondered if there existed any hidden secret that could stimulate her hair growth.
Everyone had always noticed that most of the school’s dark-skinned brothers liked the red or high-yellow girls and that the light-skinned guys liked the darker girls. But what did it matter to Jimmy? Standing six-foot three inches tall, in his chocolate complexion, he never seemed moved by skin tone. But he apparently liked hair and curves. His good looks enabled him to choose from a wide range of starry-eyed girls.
Tiphany ran her hands over her curled strands, which had been in sponge rollers all day until the time of the dance, as she continued to scan the area. Even though she only expected him to go through the same motions that he went through with her at every party and dance, she could feel her stomach turn with anticipation.
“He’s been looking for you.”
“Who?” Tiphany was clueless, lost in her thoughts.
“You know. Jimmy! I saw him on the other side of the gym. He hasn’t even been on the dance floor yet.”
Tiphany’s eyes widened. She could feel her heart pounding. “Are you serious?”
“Tip, have you ever seen Jimmy dancing with anybody else but you? Nobody has,” Gladys informed her, apparently surprised by Tiphany’s response. “Until it’s time to slow drag! That’s the only time he’ll dance with somebody else. Hey, has he ever slow danced with you?”
Tiphany knew that, if she opened her mouth, she could inadvertently reveal something Gladys could certainly grasp in a blink. She just looked away at the crowds and shook her head with a dull mutter, “Mm-mm.”
“Girl, if me and Earl weren’t together, I sure wouldn’t mind slow dancing with ole’ Jimmy. He is so cute – and built quite good!”
“Quite well,” Tiphany corrected her with a playful smile. She wanted to slap a high-five on her friend’s hand and commend her on such a great observation. “And he looks okay.”
Gladys laughed. “Miss Columnist…you just don’t notice cause you’re still stuck on Manny.”
“For the umpteenth time, I am not still stuck on that boy!” Tiphany replied while, as a result of how her friend labeled her, simultaneously reflecting on her recent honorary appointment by her school to write for a community newspaper with representation of the adolescent voice. She laughed as she continued to explain, “He never called me after I told him it was over. And I’m still not looking for him to call me either.”
For a year, she had half-heartedly dated the school’s heaviest line backer on the junior varsity football team.
“Hey, Tip.”
Tiphany knew the deep voice.
With sheer delight, Gladys realized her conversation with her best friend was abruptly over by the cool greeting. She bowed out of the brief threesome with a light pinch on Tiphany’s arm before disappearing into the crowd.
Slowly, Tiphany stared up into his dark brown eyes. Taking her hand as always, he blurted his usual words to her, “Let’s go kick it.”
“Wait.” Tiphany couldn’t believe she had said that. He had never stuck around long enough to give her a chance to speak to him. She had always been too nervous to even say “Hi.” Her only response to him had always been “okay” each time he would say, “Let’s go kick it.”
Jimmy stepped closely into her space, never letting go of her hand, and searched her eyes seemingly for the first time after nearly three school years. Looking up at him in an entirely new way, seeing what appeared to be an unfamiliar but pleasant expression on his face, Tiphany felt her strength leave her body.
“Are you okay?” He asked her with a concerned tone that made her want to lay her head on his chest for comfort from absolutely nothing.
“I- uh…uh…”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to kick it. They got some jams lined up tonight.”
“I know,” she blurted nervously. She dropped her head searching for the nerve to tell him what she had hoped would matter to him. “But…I…”
“We